


The Showering Stage

by EntreNous



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Casual Sex, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-22
Updated: 2006-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:39:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Spike would have to move first. Which come to think of it, he usually did, with some excuse about tracking down the demon that had gotten away at patrol, or mutterings about needing more cigarettes, or just a pause before saying "Right" and leaving with a slam of the door."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Showering Stage

After Spike thrust one last time against Xander's thigh and cried out as he came, he slumped onto Xander with a satisfied grunt.

Xander lay beneath him, feeling vaguely sticky. That's what coming in his jeans tended to do to a guy. A shower sounded good, but he and Spike weren't at the showering stage.

Correction -- they weren't at _any_ stage. They were two guys, who paired off on patrol, occasionally grabbed a beer together, insulted each other for fun, and maybe every so often got off when they'd had a few too many drinks.

So Spike would have to _go_ in order for there to be shower time. But the way Spike was laying on top of him with a snort against the skin of Xander's neck, as if he were a horse settling down for the night, didn't exactly spell "So I'm off" coming out of his mouth anytime soon.

Normally Xander would have slid back if Spike didn't edge away. At the very least, he’d have fake-yawned and made a stretch-type move that would segue into a parting of bodies and Spike patting down his duster for his lighter before he left. But somehow when they'd been watching _Mothra Takes Manhattan_ the friendly-shoving and hand gesturing over the hypothetical battle of Mothra versus King Kong had eventually translated into Spike ending up on top of Xander and dry-humping him like he was made of vampire-nip.

Usually it was more of a side-by-side thing. Side-by-side, always simple to back out of. Or if they fell off the couch and rolled onto the floor, that made for an easy escape wriggling away.

But no, he was pretty much pinned to the worn cushions of his sofa. So Spike would have to move first. Which come to think of it, he usually did, with some excuse about tracking down the demon that had gotten away at patrol, or mutterings about needing more cigarettes, or just a pause before saying "Right" and leaving with a slam of the door.

Xander cleared his throat. Spike nosed at Xander's neck with a sigh, and didn't budge.

That Spike wasn’t moving -- it was just weird. Obviously, Spike was in the same situation. Okay, so maybe he wasn't being squished by 160 pounds of vampire, but he was still wearing his jeans too, and even the undead probably felt messy after they came. And while Xander could do with a little more patrolling exercise and a little less Danish eating while doing paperwork in the trailer at the site, he wasn't exactly pillow soft. So it wasn't as though this were incredibly comfy for anyone involved.

Not that they were _involved_.

After a moment Xander brought his hands to Spike's shoulders. From there it would be pretty easy to pluck at Spike’s t-shirt as a "okay, finished now" signal, or give Spike a poke in the shoulder to get him to hustle.

"Mmmm," Spike murmured against his skin.

Xander nearly choked on his spit. That sounded an awful lot like -- well -- it was as though --

"Are we snuggling?" he blurted out.

"What? No. Snuggling," Spike scoffed. Nonetheless, he moved his cheek against Xander's in a way that seemed kind of ... cozy.

Xander's hands fell to clutch at Spike's shoulders. Okay, so he wasn't poking or anything yet, but he was in position to start. That’s right: any time he wanted, he could give Spike a little shove or shake his arms to let him know that while the two of them thrusting and panting and coming together had been fine, this ... whatever this was... was not anything he'd signed on for.

Spike grumbled. Or rumbled. Anyway, he made some kind of sound. It was only when Xander made the connection to a great big cat purring like it was very pleased did he realize with horror that he was stroking Spike's shoulders while he thought. Furthermore, it seemed that Spike liked his shoulders being stroked an awful lot.

"Look, I don't know what _you_ call this," Xander began.

Spike stopped rumbling/grumbling and made an exasperated sound. "I don't _call_ it anything."

Xander shifted to get more comfortable. Not that he was getting comfortable, but he was getting comfortable-er since he was obviously stuck on his back for a while longer. Well, unless he wanted to give Spike a real push to the ground before making some speech about how this cuddle-type action was weird and confusing, not to mention bad for his jeans. But that seemed a little unsporting after they'd just...you know.

"It's _something_ " he insisted finally. He'd rested his arms on Spike's back in a way that was nothing at all like a hug.

"Bloody Americans, always wanting to talk everything out," Spike breathed. Actually, it sounded more like a yawn.

"We're going to be totally stiff in the morning," Xander pointed out to no one in particular.

"Expect a shower will take care of that," Spike muttered. He adjusted until their legs were more intertwined and tucked his head in between the back of the couch and the crook of Xander's neck.

Xander's lips parted. "Holy guacamole," he would have whispered. "We _are_ at the showering stage."

But he was fast asleep before he could get the words out.


End file.
